


All Done for the Day

by DefiledCinephile



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Bathroom Sex, BlissingOut, Blow Jobs in a Car, CaughtOffGuard, Choking, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub Play, ExactlyWhatBratsGet, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Flirting, Fucking, Gift Giving, KinkyFilth, Love, M/M, Mirrors, Quickies, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Situational Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Voice Kink, spit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiledCinephile/pseuds/DefiledCinephile
Summary: Alex – and Greg - and the events taking place after the studio recordings for Series 7Told in Five Ficlets.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. That Feeling

The first recording day of the series had ended hours ago, but of course, diligent as always, Alex is still at the studio, finishing up some last minute paperwork and preparations for tomorrow’s taping. He breathes a sigh of relief as he flicks off the light to his office – it’s clean – _pristine_ \- as per his new routine. He locks up, then scurries off down the hallway toward the main parking lot exit.

He startles coming around the corner, caught off guard by Greg, who’s stood imposingly, arms crossed, in the middle of the hallway.

“All done for the day.” Alex somehow manages to make this simultaneously sound like both a statement and a question. Neither of which Greg responds to.

His momentum fades to a halt. Still, he doesn’t budge. Alex smiles, sheepishly, and takes a large sidestep. But so does Greg, matching his movement with a grin that slowly spreads. He raises an eyebrow and indicates to the bathroom door, just to his left. Alex’s eyes glaze over dreamily, he glances around – then slips inside.

Greg scans the area one last time before joining him. He locks the door, turns and takes pause, to enjoy watching Alex as he awkwardly fidgets with anticipation. His shuffling shoes. Hands which dip in and out of various pockets. The scritch-scratch of his beard. Eyes that dart and wander.

“Everything went well for the first one, yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re a crazy group, should make for a fun series.”

“That Acaster’s a real live wire, aye? Bit of a brat, I suspect. And Rhod’s off to a cracking start with that whole costume change thing _hmm_ , how many more times _does_ he manage to humiliate you throughout all this anyway?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. I’m guessing you might have given him a couple of hints though, huh? _Being_ _buddies_.” Alex eyes him.

Greg snorts and bites back a giggle. “Well … he pretty much had you sussed anyway, but yeah, _being_ _buddies_ , I might’ve supplied a few … helpful suggestions.”

“ _Oh_ \- turns out you were - _quite_ _helpful_ \- ”

“Which is it you prefer exactly, Alex - when I'm watching you _be_ humiliated, or when _I’m_ _the one_ who humiliates you?”

He shrugs slightly, a sly glint to his eye. “That depends.”

 _“Mmm.”_ Greg slowly approaches, grabs him by the throat and begins backing him up against the sink. “ _Depends on …_ what exactly?”

“It’s hard to - ” Alex sputters. “It’s more just _a feeling, Gr -_ ”

He flips him around last second and presses his cheek to the cold glass of the mirror. “And how about right now, _hmm?_ ” A distorted image of himself. Smooshed. Held firmly in place by Greg’s heavy hand. _“Are we getting that feeling yet?”_ He unbuttons his trousers, wiggles them over his hips and pushes them down with his free hand. “How about now?”

Alex's erection snaps upright and collides over and over again with the cool under surface of the sink, he grips its porcelain sides, appearing as if poised and ready to rip it from the wall at any moment.

“Would you just look at yourself?” His voice reverberates throughout the entire space. His menacing stature distorted behind wide, wild eyes, reflected so closely back into his own. “Absolutely disgraceful, _ooh_ you look a right fucking mess, _don’t you?_ ”

Alex nods, as best he can. His skin squeaks and squeals against the glass.

“Yeah … such a sorry sight.”

He places a cupped hand under his chin. Alex’s breathing borders on hyperventilation, it’s created a steamy aura which clouds the mirror round his face. “Spit. And for your own sake - I’d make it a good one.”

It’s hard – in his current predicament - but he does manage to do so, eventually.

“That’s it. _Good boy_.”

Alex shudders as Greg traces his asshole with the collected wetness. He can hear him frantically fumble with his belt, and then – _he's steadily inching his way inside._

“Come on, Alex - tell me what I want to hear.”

“I dunno what - ”

“Yes you do. Think.”

_“Please sir, can I have some more?”_

A chuckle rumbles through his frame, Alex’s body goes lax. “That’s actually - _better_ \- than what I thought you'd say.”

The pressure builds in intensity, evenly, until his hips hit the hilt. Alex’s hands jar against the porcelain. Over and over. Swift, sharp, full strokes – and the metallic rattling of loose bathroom fittings.

Alex could tell he was close; all his force gradually melts away - into feeling - gentle gestures. The pressure on his face eases into light little scrunches of his hair, with fingers that linger. His breathing becomes sporadic, as do his thrusts, until all at once – _everything ceases_. Alex can feel the calm that permeates those short, sweet seconds of silence, right before the storm finally surges forth and swallows up all of Greg’s gushing groans.

His hands recede – from his hair, from his hips. He zips up his trousers and straightens his shirt. Alex steadies himself as he peels his pressed cheek from the glass, his own pants still down round his ankles. Greg flashes him an amused expression in the reflection, but it was one laced with a deep sense of knowing. There was great comfort in that.

“See you tomorrow, Greg,” Alex pants as he watches his trailing reflection in the glass, overtop his own heaving shoulders.

He turns back. The pair lock eyes in the mirror for one more brief moment, as Greg purrs, “Yes – we'll just have to see what tomorrow'll bring, _won’t we slut?_ ” He vanishes from his view.


	2. Suck It

Alex is half wary, half hopeful - memories of the previous night looming large - on his way round the corner, on his way home for the night, but tonight, it seemed, Greg had already gone. The hallway was empty. Going past that bathroom door, he couldn’t help but feel both relieved and disappointed by this.

Only a sliver of the moon, and not a star to be seen – it’s dark – with a refreshing chill to the air. Alex digs out his keys, but is soon stunned into an immediate standstill – Greg’s car, but parked away from his usual spot, in a poorly lit back section of the lot. He squints. The driver side door is wide open, beyond that, he can’t make out anything.

The headlights flicker on and off, once, like a lightning strike at ground level, just long enough to illuminate an intimidating flash of Greg within the vehicle. An obvious signal of sorts, Alex slides the keys back into his pocket and veers toward the open door.

He stoops to greet a seated Greg. “Enjoying the evening air?”

“I will be.” Shoes scrape against asphalt, landing either side of Alex’s own as he shifts frame to face him. “ _Shortly_. I did enjoy seeing Rhod tie you up today, despite the piss poor technique - but uh - what’s all this about him gagging you with an egg? That clearly didn’t make the edit - _censors? Or simply the look in your eye, d’you think?_ You’ll be getting me that footage, yeah, I’m curious. Did you look for me in the bathroom just now?”

Alex snorts. “No. But - ”

“Did I catch you off guard?”

“When - _just now?_ ”

“Earlier. On set.”

“Your best noise? Yeah, a bit – the first time.”

“No, the slap.”

“ _Ohhh_ – yes.” The smallest of smirks curls the corners of his mouth.

Greg slaps him again. A proper, private one.

“What about that time?”

 _“Less so.”_ Watering eyes defy his words. “Greg … ? Is there something in particular you'd like? Parked as you are, off in this back corner.”

_“Surprise me.”_

Alex ponders this a second. “Suck it.”

_"Pardon me?"_

“Suck it, Greg. Just a nugget to remember for tomorrow. A certain Acaster catch phrase I think you could have a little fun with. A heads up – for something you should _definitely play up._ Suck it. He says it _a lot_ from here on out. How heavy was he anyway?”

“Light as a feather.” He pokes him in the belly. “Unlike somebody else. But when he called me a pussy … ” He shakes his head and laughs, “ _Fuck ..._ incessantly running that mouth.” His fingers rake deeply though his beard. “So – _suck it, aye?_ ”

“Got you pretty worked up, has he – that energy - I can tell - ”

“If you only knew what I’d like to have done, how I handle a brat like that.”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“ _Do you?_ Well, then.” Greg slides further forward, widens his legs and pulls down at the sleeve of Alex’s jacket. “Seeing as you’re the only one around - you’ll just have to do - won’t you, Alex. Come on, then. Suck it.”

“No way – I’m not about to be your stand in for - ”

“Oh, but you will.”

 _“I won’t - fuck you - you can’t make me.”_ Alex pulls back. Indignant. Insolent.

His face wrinkles with confusion, Greg winces and drops the role completely. “Sorry, Alex, I really didn’t think you’d be opposed to a bit of – _sorry, mate_ \- ”

“No, _Greg_ \- I’m being bratty, isn’t this - is this not _bratty?_ I’m trying to give you - I'm not really sure how to – I thought you wanted me to be - ”

“ _Ohhh ... I see._ So you want a tiny taste of what it’s like to be a bad boy, aye? You’re always so good - you really can’t help it, can you? You wanna play the brat, _you wanna know what that’s like, do you?_ ”

Alex nods, eyes enthusiastic.

“Fair warning, Alex - brats don’t get any of the niceties that I afford good little sluts like you, they just get punished – it’s that simple.”

Alex is overcome, _drunk on that feeling_. He licks his lips and watches on as Greg gently massages himself through his pants.

_“Show me?”_

Greg sneers. “Sure.” He unsheathes his cock, stroking it casually. “I’ll show you … _exactly_ what a brat can expect.”

He grabs a chunk of hair, right by the root, tight, and thrusts him to his knees. Alex attempts his usual start with a slow tongue and –

“No – _stop_.” Greg glares down at him. _“What d’you think you’re doing?”_

“I was - ”

He cuffs a hand across his mouth, stifling all speech. His eyes dangerous and dark with desire.

“Brats don’t get to worship it. They don’t even get to enjoy it - _any of it._ ” He holds his face in place as he fucks it. “They get absolutely nothing from me – and I take _everything_ from them.” Deep, violent strokes that fill his throat, and cut off his breath. “I only want to hear them sputter and gag, _and choke_ on my fucking cock. I use them all up. And then I - I - toss them aside – _ahhh_ \- ”

Come lines the roof of his mouth, then spatters across his face.

_“That’s – exactly – what a brat gets.”_

Greg throws him aside. Gravel scatters. The car door closes.

Alex gets up, on jelly legs, dazed, come dripping from his cheeks and lips. The engine hums.

He brushes the silt from his trousers, and once again, pulls the keys from his pocket.

Headlights guide the way, as he stumbles back to his car - climbs in, wipes his face clean.

His phone vibrates. He glances down as the screen illuminates.

…

**Such a good boy, Alex.**  
**Doesn’t pay to play the brat, now does it? Drive safe xo**

…

Alex stifles a laugh. He catches sight of an actual twinkle in his eye as he adjusts his rear view mirror, the glare of Greg’s lights a gentle reminder. He pulls out. Greg follows close behind.


End file.
